


Lean on my Pride

by AceintheSol



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, First Meetings, Gen, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, Lera Stays In Her Lane, Light Angst, Lion Apologism, Sudden Insight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 10:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20965394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceintheSol/pseuds/AceintheSol
Summary: Lera goes for a late night run, but someone is already there.





	Lean on my Pride

Lera works with the man who will come to be known as Lion for an entire _ year _before she ever gets a glimpse at Olivier Flament. He hides himself well. There’s an element of avoidance to it, Flament doesn’t show up to social events and generally rebukes attempts at casual conversation. But largely speaking...

Well. To put it bluntly, the man’s an _ asshole_. A self-admitted one, at that. 

He likes his jokes dry and well-timed, quirks an eyebrow as well as he handles his weaponry. Flament has a crooked smirk she could almost be fond of, if he didn’t point it like a knife when he felt cornered. But he isn’t half as arrogant as he wants the world to believe. The first real interaction Lera has with Flament is at three in the morning. Bleary eyes, shoulders drooping with exhaustion and the weight of the world. Aches and growing pains. They share a handful of meaningless words at most, yet it all feels terribly real. Raw in all the strangest ways.

On that day, sleep does not come. This... is not new. Lera finds she can’t settle her mind enough to lay down and just _ sleep _most nights. Sometimes the future is burning a hole in her skull, dizzying her with maybes and hopes and dreadful fears. Sometimes the past clutches at her shoulders and _ pulls _ with cold, grasping hands. 

When nights like this come around, she tugs her running shoes on and steps out of her neat, well-organized office into a nearly empty hall. This place is never truly silent, the number and kind of its occupants too nebulous to be completely at peace. People come and go all the time; she passes a few on her way. Some salute her lazily, the ones she’s known longer share a tired, knowing grimace.

The gym here isn’t amazingly equipped, in spite of rumors of an impending remodeling, but it’s enough for their purposes. The treadmills are a grounding tool for Lera. Her feet pounding down again and again, jolting up her legs and reminding her that the earth is still beneath her feet. A hush of her own breath in her ears, the lively thrumming of a heartbeat still working in her chest. Lera likes the consistency of running in place when time weighs her heart heavily against that feather. Once her body is worn out and her mind recentered, she knows that sleep will come as easily as it ever does. Frustrated as she is with her own clockwork predicament, Lera smiles a little at the thought. Irritating but consistent. Sounds like a few people she knows.

As she draws nearer, still not fully awake and somewhat trapped just beneath the surface of true thought, it becomes clear that someone has beaten her to it. One of the treadmills is already squeaking under rapid steps, echoing out to Lera. This happens every now and again; she isn’t the only one with a penchant for late nights. An unfamiliar voice swears as she passes through the door. She lingers on the threshold, leans on the frame. It’s Flament, Lera realizes with a little surprise. And he isn’t running.

Flament is almost _ sprinting _on the treadmill like his life depends on it, sucking in ragged gasps of air. And although he’s turned away from her she can tell that his usually coiffed hair is plastered to his head. His sleep shirt has already gone beyond pitted out straight into soaked with sweat. It clings to his muscular frame in a way that could have been attractive if it wasn’t sweat. A shoe lags, lifting far too slowly to keep up with the machine and Flament nearly takes a header.

Another swear, this one just this side of desperate. 

Without a word, Lera makes her way to a treadmill off to the side. Not her business, not her problem. If the man needs to run like the world is ending, more power to him. Now that she isn’t directly behind him, she gets a good look at his face. There’s some hollow quality to it. Dark circles smolder under tired eyes. By the sound of it Flament likes to listen to music while he runs, and _ loudly_. Something angry sounding blares from his earbuds, fast paced and full of bass.

Loud as it is, the music can’t drown out the sound of him gasping for breath. He’s standing on the edge of the treadmill as Lera reaches to turn hers on, face pinched. As the treadmill under her feet slowly whirs to life, Flament’s continues to spin uselessly as he stares down at it. Something splashes down onto the treads so fast Lera almost thinks that she imagined it. Sweat? Disgusting. Now that he’s standing still, she notices that his hands are trembling.

Part of her wants to speak. Part of her wants to reach out to someone clearly struggling. But it’s also very much not her business, and her heart aches to acknowledge that. Everyone here is an adult, and beyond that they’re a professional. She has to be able to trust that they can take care of themselves, or ask for help when they can’t. It’s part of their job. And yet…

A beat passes.

Lera opens her mouth, just to let him know she’s there. Maybe even offer him that same understanding grimace she’d been given in the hall. She doesn’t need to know the specifics to understand the sentiment. And _this_, whatever it is, feels too much like watching something private for her comfort.

“Fl-”

Flament lashes out suddenly, fist fairly driving into the control panel with a dull thud after he fumbles and fails to turn the thing off. A few harsh sounds follow as he cradles his hand close. 

Suddenly his breath is coming in high notes as he struggles to take it in. The opposite of his last attempt; he moves slowly, hand reaching out to press the off button. His fingers linger there, sliding off the face of the treadmill to hang in the air.

Then he makes a noise that sounds as much like ‘dammit’ as anything Lera’s ever known, head hanging.

The music is still roaring into near silence.

With the treadmill finally at a dead standstill, it’s all too easy to see the full-body shudder that starts at Flament’s feet and travels upward. Hers is still spinning slowly beneath her. She’d been so focused on Flament that she hadn’t even started really running yet. Oh, hell. She hits the stop button and steps off- she can always turn it back on again. Lera takes a few steps in his direction.

When he finally reaches up and tugs the earbuds away, she takes her chance.

“Flament,” Lera says gently, trying not to startle him too badly. He straightens so fast Lera almost wonders if he’s been electrified, head whipping around to stare at her. He recovers quickly, face settling into the usual not-quite sneer. 

“Melnikova.” Arrogant, even dismissive; but his voice cracks slightly towards the end. Flament’s ears instantly color a hot red that matches his flushed face. 

Sweat beads his brow like a necklace, and as she blinks a heavy drop rolls down his cheek.

And in an instant, Lera reads a novel’s worth of subtle cues that had been sitting in the stark white space between the metaphorical lines all along. 

Feet planted firmly, shoulders set, but with his arms folded in front of him. Flament’s jaws are clenched, eyes wide and boring a hole into her. For half a second she sees contempt, maybe even hostility. And then she catches the way his body is turned towards the exit. The way his knee twitches when she makes a half step in his vague direction.

Oh. Obstinacy bleeds away into an air of ‘leave me alone’ so strong it makes Lera want to avert her eyes. And in this weird bubble of insight, it strikes her that in his own odd little way Flament is _ afraid _of her.

Not that she might throw a punch, no. They’re both fighters, they can both hold their own- violence is a part of the job.

No, he’s afraid that she might cut him down at the knees with her tongue. For a second Lera feels a terrible sort of power in that thought. That she and Flament both know that she could _ hurt _ him, somehow, truly _ hurt _him. Here in this space where he feels so very obviously vulnerable. If she wanted to, she could rub salt into an unknown wound, expose him, make him ache down to the bones.

She lets it go. 

The moment hangs on a second too long and Flament fidgets awkwardly. Her mouth opens of its own accord, but a million things Lera wants to say get caught in her throat. There’s a lot she needs to process; she came here for her own reasons to begin with, and _ this _is not going to help her sleep tonight. 

“You _ reek_,” she blurts instead of anything else, nose crinkling, and Flament blusters angrily. She’s learned a great deal of things tonight but ultimately she came here to run, not to play therapist. You can’t give someone a drink from an empty cup, after all.

Lera turns away and resets the treadmill, giving him the out if he wants it. As she climbs onto it yet again, fiddling with the panel to get up to speed, she hears him grab his things and hurry away. He crashes into the doorframe just a little, swearing under his breath, and a wry smile tugs at her lips. 

Olivier plays arrogance well enough that Lera knows it was real once. That it sat fully in the sneer of pink lips and eyes rolled skyward. Something youthful, annoying in its innocence. Now, she knows, he wears it like a mask. It’s a plastic thing, a hollow-eyed facsimile of a confidence Flament no longer feels. He was proud once. But Lera knows he feels the past’s bony hands pulling his shoulders, too. And that, at least, she can understand.

**Author's Note:**

> Usually I try to spring for at least 2000 words, but Finka just wasn’t having it! She seems like a pretty efficient person, so I guess it’s sort of fitting :p Title somewhat shamefully ripped from “The Hype” by Twenty One Pilots. If you liked it (or you thought of a better summary) let me know!


End file.
